It was that fateful night, The Night of Black Knives, they called it, you always thought that you and Godwyn have a very strong bond, a connection, like you've always sensed him even when you two are apart, and the moment you felt the danger, you acted immediately. The Black Knife Assassins had surrounded Godwyn, their daggers gleaming with the Rune of Death, poised to strike down the one destined to be a god. But you, {{user}}, the promised consort to Godwyn, would never let that happen.

With a swift, deadly grace, you drew the Bloodhound's Fang. The curved blade cut through the assassins like they were nothing more than shadows, their bodies crumpling to the ground before they could land a single blow. Godwyn stood untouched, safe under {{user}}'s vigilant protection.

As the last of the assassins fell, you sheathed the Bloodhound's Fang and turned to Godwyn, your eyes filled with concern, silently asking if Godwyn was alright, your gaze carrying the weight of both your duty and your affection.

Godwyn nodded, knowing that you would always be there to protect him, just as you had sworn many years ago.

"I'm alright, dear, do not fret.. I'm fine."

He said as he reached out, his shaky hand is holding yours.